I don't own WoW :)
All thanks goes to Blizzard for that.
Oh and a huge thankyou to the REAL Treyshamir :P For lending me his toon for this.
Chapter 1:
Blood blossomed across the snow underfoot like a macabre scarlet flower. Lady Irina Blameux surveyed the scene with the cold glowing eyes; the eyes of a death knight never saw in colour - only black and white. Life and death, weak and strong... her new life had made things so clear. The fallen alliance soldier at her feet were weak in their life, where the regiment of Death Knights at her back were strong in death. They moved swiftly across the patchwork battlefield dispatching the few mortals that had clung so desperately to life with cold and swift execution. She drew breath - needless, she knew, since the undead need no air to breathe - she savoured the spicy metallic tang of fresh blood in the air. So ripe, so appealing.
"Begin the reanimation." She purred.
Her voice chimed in a harmonious chord across the icy ravine, the sound coming from deep within her throat and infused with the magic of command that had been gifted to her by her King. The lich under her command knew no language, but a direct order from a superior could only be met with compliance. Whether that order was to fight, die or fall upon their own blade; lich had no will of their own. Only the will of their King.
Scarlet-cloaked Necromancers began to circulate through the field, summoning ghouls from the bodies of fallen soldiers. They chanted and rattled their charms, or wands, or whatever they felt gave them the illusion of their own power. Blameux set her mouth in a knowing smile, a dark smile; such fools! To think that they had any power, any will of their own other than that of their King! Each one was replaceable with every enemy that they slew on the battlefield - that was the beauty of an army built in death. Death was inescapable for all, which meant that the supply of soldiers was endless. What genius!
"My Lady!" Another skeletal Necromancer carrying a large feathered staff of black crystal and purple glass beads drew her attention. She drew her horse closer to him, seeing immediately what it was that had caused his call for her attention; a Draenai female was lying across the ruined remains of a plague wagon. The Undead she had slain lay scattered at her feet, face down like devotees paying tribute to a deity. Blameux's eyes were drawn to her armor; plate metal in silver and gold. A paladin. She nodded once at the Necromancer and dismounted as he backed away.
She stood above the corpse, reaching down a hand as if offering to help it get to its feet. Her hand began to ebb and flow with an icy glow, the light crept from her fingers until it accumulated in her palm where it pulsed stronger and stronger like the beating of a heart. The Necromancer watched with disguised envy; even the powers he posessed were nothing compared to what his Lady was about to do. Summon a ghoul? Elementary. Reanimate one of the juggernaut sweeping across Azeroth? True power. He hungered for that kind of power.
Blameux reached down with more command in the motion, willing the body to meet her yet offering no help. For a moment the corpse shivered then started to rise. The Draenai's hair hung limply, streaked with the black blood of lich and scarlet of her own. It seemed to begin to waver in a slow, unfelt breeze. Her head was cast backwards - eyes closed - and her legs hung in a graceful arc as they left the ground. The closer her body came to the beating heart Blameux had conjured, the faster it pulsated until finally it thrummed with such longing for a body in which to reside it met her chest with a blinding flash of light.
The Necromancer turned his head away, avoiding the bright dazzle of the light of Undeath; the raw string that tied them all to their King. It sustained them, bound them to his word and gave them more power than they could have imagined in their pathetic mortal lives. When he turned back the corpse had fallen back to the snowy earth, all signs of the icy glow dissipated into her armor until the body returned to its peaceful slumber.
10... 20 seconds passed. The Necromancer furrowed his pockmarked brow,
"Did it fail?"
"Shall we test it?" Blameux turned her icy stare to him. It bored through his back as he slowly approached the corpse and knelt to its side. He lay his staff to the side and reached out to touch the body to search for some sign of Undeath. The moment his bony fingers touched the bloodied plate armor the corpses eyes flew open. With an animalistic snarl it grabbed him by the neck; fingers crushing the delicate muscle, snapping the spine and pulling the slick bony chain from his body with a wrenching cry. His body flew limply through the air then cumpled on the bloodstained ground, quivering. With no spine all he could do was shake like a leave in a strong breeze, screaming and convulsing in pain.
A shadow fell across him.
"A lesson: we do not test the power of the Lich King." She stated blankly and turned to walk away.
Leaving the crippled Necromancer on the ground behind her, she returned to the new Death Knight as it finished rising to its feet. She looked it up and down with a critical eye, walking in a slow circle around it until she came back to the front of the warrior. It did not stir, did not breath or move while she inspected her new recruit.
"Whom do you serve?" She asked finally. The Death Knight spoke, eyes focused on the horizon behind her,
"My Master, the Lich King."
"And what is your purpose?" Blameux leaned closer to the Knight, inspecting the eyes for any trace of humanity left. Nothing remained in those empty glowing blue eyes except burning fury.
"To destroy."
Blameux smiled, satisfied with the answer and mounted her warhorse once again. Her master would be pleased - he held a special place for paladins turned to their cause. One so loyal and obviously so powerful would reflect well on her own standing with him.
"Join the others. We return to Acherus to commence your training."
"Yes my Lady." The Knight blinked and fell into step behind the dozens of others Blameux had raised today as they marched across the hills.
She gave the order to move out, having reaped what they had come for and leaving the battlefield for the vultures that circled overhead. It was time to begin home.